


You're holding me down.

by drinkginandkerosene



Category: Glee
Genre: Blangst, Break Up, Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-15 19:14:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drinkginandkerosene/pseuds/drinkginandkerosene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written pre-breakup episode, so doesn't follow the canon AT ALL.</p><p>An alternate break up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're holding me down.

When Blaine looks down and sees their fingers interlocked, he knows he should be happy. He should feel that fairytale feeling, that happily ever after bull that every TV screen promotes. He doesn’t. He used to though. He used to. But now, this is New York, and Kurt blends into the surrounding streets like he was born and bred here, and unless Blaine is very much mistaken (not that he would be, he knows his other half inside out, better than he knows himself), Kurt’s accent is starting to get a hint of the New Yorker about it. When he looks at their interlocking hands, Blaine feels like an anchor. Pulling Kurt to the same spot over and over, when he should be moving away, moving on. Kurt and Ohio didn’t mix. They never did. So why did Blaine ever think that he would be different? Blaine Anderson was not built for great things. He was built for working at his dad’s company, a white picket fence, two point five kids, and no great last words to say when he was eighty. Kurt deserved an exciting life. And that might mean one without him. Without warning, he decides to be selfish this one last time, before he left. He needed something to get him by. As they entered the dark park, he pulled Kurt to him, pressing his lips against the taller boy’s, and oh God, his resolve almost crumbled, because he wouldn’t feel the soft mouth against his /ever/ and the taste of Kurt, something delicate and fierce he’s never going to replicate fills his mouth. He pulls away, manages a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, and continues walking.

He feels like his legs are going to give out.

He pulls Kurt to a stop in front of a monument, and Jesus, he really couldn’t pick a prettier night to do this, although, he misses the stars. He can’t see a single one in this city. The lights are too blinding. He shifts uncomfortably.

“Kurt.” Kurt’s been rambling, about fabric use in fashion and how it’s changing, and Blaine can’t help but once again marvel at the boy’s passion. Every time he speaks, he falls for him all over again, his own personal miracle. Blaine reminds himself that angels don’t exist, despite the evidence in front of him. Kurt’s stopped, looked at him. He hears the tremble in his voice.

“Blaine? What’s wrong? Is it your dad again, I could-” Blaine shakes his head, swallowing the lump in his throat.   
“No, it’s not him, just stop for a minute okay?” He runs a hand through his hair that’s badly in need of more gel. It’s starting to curl at the scalp, and Blaine can’t forget the feeling of Kurt’s hands twisting themselves in the curls as he gasped out noises that had become a language between them. One someone else is going to learn. That thought brings bile to his throat, which he swallows down.

“I-… This…” Kurt’s looking at him like he’s going to fucking /propose/ or something, and it’s that look, that look of hope that makes him spill it out. “I’m breaking up with you.”

The sentence hangs in the air for a moment, thick between them. Then the silence shatters like a heart, as Kurt breaks too. Words fly out of Kurt’s mouth like broken glass, ripping into Blaine, making him want to take it back, but he can’t, and both of them know it.

“Did I do something? I thought we were doing so good, skype every night, emails every /second/, what more do I need to do? Tell me Blaine, I’ll do it, just please-“

Blaine cuts him off, his arms crossed, nails digging into his palms, sure to leave cuts that won’t fade for weeks, a reminder of what he’d done to the only boy he’d ever made promises to. “It’s not you. Well, actually, it is. You’re here Kurt and I’m-” Kurt tries to speak, tries to pull him into an embrace but Blaine pushes himself back, his voice tearing out of his throat in the most painful thing he’s ever experienced, and that’s including his dad. “No, don’t , please don’t make this harder. This is my point, you’re on skype to me damn near every night instead of going out there, instead of living! You can’t just sit around and /wait/ for me-“  
“Blaine, it’s only a few months and then you’ll be here with me-“  
“No, I won’t.”  
“What? What are you even talking about-“  
Blaine rubbed his eyes. “I… New York isn’t me. It’s for exciting people, people who are /going/ somewhere and I’m just me. I’m not that person.”   
“Blaine-” And Kurt’s voice is filled with pity he can’t. Fucking. Stand because he’s doing the right thing, even if Kurt’s eyes are streaming and his beautiful pale skin is flushed. It should be illegal for people to look so so beautiful when they’re crying. “You’re the best person I’ve ever met.”  
“Then you haven’t met enough.”  
He flinched away from Kurt’s hand, from his kindness. That’s when Kurt snapped.  
“Blaine, stop it, just stop it! We are not breaking up!” Hysterical. He keeps looking at Blaine like he wants to wake up from a bad dream, but he doesn’t realise yet Blaine was the bad dream.  
“We just did Kurt. We just did.” It kills him, it brings real sparks of pain dancing across his skin as he forces himself to step away from Kurt, away from the only real home he’s ever know, moving mechanically, stiffer than a robot. He walks back down the path, and when Kurt gets home, his Blaine’s stuff will be gone, and a key will be left on the bed. He can’t cry, not yet. Blaine does nothing but cry on the plane home. That and ignore the missed calls. He can’t pick up, because he’ll lose the will to enforce this.

This is exactly what they both deserve. Blaine alone, and Kurt free. It’s poetic in a way, Blaine thinks, or tries to. He really tries to.


End file.
